Health care for young people in regional areas? I’ll be damned.

I recently relocated to a new town on the far south coast of NSW. Merimbula is known for its oysters, expansive beaches, and crystal-blue water, and I was excited to discover what else it had to offer. Within weeks, though, I found myself needing a doctor. A strange infection had developed in my thumbnail - throbbing, painful, and getting worse.

I started calling medical centres.

“Are you an existing patient?”

“No, I’ve just moved here.”

“Sorry, we’re not taking new patients.”

Again and again.

By the third call, frustration crept in. “I’ve never heard of this before,” I said. “Why is this happening—and where are new patients supposed to go?”

Click.

Hung up on.

On the next call, I asked the same question. This time, I was told they didn’t want to overburden doctors. I couldn’t help but think—isn’t providing care their job? It reminded me of something from a recent university lecture: the role of a teacher is to meet the needs of all students. The contrast felt jarring.

Eventually, a receptionist suggested Tura Beach Medical Centre might be taking new patients. Otherwise, she said, there’s a 24-hour emergency facility in Bega - but be prepared to wait.

I called. Luckily, I got an appointment for Monday. It was Friday. I’d just have to get through the weekend.

Later that morning, Capital Chemist in Merimbula was bustling with mostly older patients waiting for prescriptions. I felt slightly out of place. When I finally explained my situation, the assistant brought over the pharmacist.

She was young, professional, knowledgable and calm. And she’d just moved to the area too. She told me she’d had the same experience trying to access a doctor.

That stopped me.

Young professionals are coming to regional towns to serve communities - and can’t even access basic healthcare themselves.

She assessed my thumb, recommended treatment, and helped me get through my swim teaching shift that afternoon. Because I still had to work. That’s what we do.

By Monday, I was exhausted and still in pain. I arrived at my appointment on time. The waiting room was filled almost entirely with elderly patients. For a moment, it felt like I’d stepped into an aged care facility.

30 minutes later, my name was called.

The doctor - a warm, composed man from Africa - immediately put me at ease. He diagnosed paronychia with an abscess under the nail. I needed antibiotics, and possibly drainage.

Finally - Clarity. Care. Relief. After days of stress, I felt looked after.

And in a small but meaningful win, the consultation was free as a student.

My experience of regional healthcare was a rollercoaster. There was professionalism, kindness, and genuine treatment - from the pharmacist to the doctor. But there were also barriers, frustrations, and moments that simply shouldn’t happen.

If we want regional communities to thrive, we need to support the people choosing to live and work in them - especially young professionals.

We can’t invite them in and then lock them out of basic care.

It starts with something simple.

Let them see a doctor.